Eating like a Catalonian

WARNING: FOOD CENTERED POST

Well, you’ve been warned, so let’s continue on. Over the last few weeks my job has taken me to a couple European cities that I’d never been to before and a couple that I have. The predominant theme of these trips has been that I get into town, have time for a late dinner, have a day of meetings, and then fly back to the UK. So far I haven’t had any trouble finding good food, though. Some places were better than others, but there really hasn’t been anything that I could say is bad.

My first trip took me to Barcelona, which is in the Catalonia region of Spain. Catalan cuisine is fairly similar to French cuisine, which makes sense given the region’s proximity to France. The evening my colleague and I arrived we had dinner at La Dida, which was close to the Sagrada Familia.

I had found the restaurant in a guidebook that Wife had bought. Luckily they had an English menu since my Spanish competency isn’t nearly what it needs to be to order successfully. My first course was a dish the guidebook recommended. Roughly translated it was called Black Rice, which is exactly what it was. It was a little like a risotto consistency but with long grain rice. The “Black” part came from Cuttlefish ink. A garlic aioli came on the side. Adding a little bit to the top gave the dish a bit of a zing that cut through the richness of the rice. I even got a picture of it, but it was such poor quality I didn’t include it.

The second course was slices of foie gras with a cream sauce and fried whipped potatoes. Beyond rich is the best way to describe it. I can handle rich food, but even this was a little much for me. Luckily they offered a great citrus sorbet for dessert that took away the stuffed feeling from all the rich food.

Dinner was good, but it couldn’t hold a candle to what we had for lunch the next day. The head of the company we met with in Barcelona took us out to another Catalonian restaurant for lunch. We left the starters ordering up to the locals, which was a very smart thing to do. Six appetizers were ordered for us all to share. First there was toasted bread with crushed tomatoes and olive oil. This came out with a platter of fresh and cured anchovy filets. The anchovy had a fishier flavor than I normally like, but paired with the bread was really good. After this was a goose or duck liver pate with crostini. It was good, but I don’t know enough about pate to rate it. Shortly after the pate they brought these small pieces of fried cheese. This was my favorite part of the meal. The cheese was mild with a very pronounced nutty flavor. A thin coat of breading added a little crunch to the contrast with the soft cheese inside. My mouth is watering right now just thinking about it.

And that wasn’t the end. Just when I thought we were done with the starters they brought out a platter heaped with grilled octopus. It was dressed very simply with a little olive oil and lemon and cooked to perfection. Grilled just enough to heat through and not enough to be tough, it was one of the best seafood dishes I have ever tasted. The final taste was a dish of fried anchovies with a pureed red pepper sauce. It was good, but after the octopus it was a little anticlimactic.

For the main course I had steamed hake with vegetables. It was very simply flavored, but cooked very well. Accompanying all this was a great Rioja. Dessert was the Catalan version of crème brulee. The custard had a thinner consistency, but the flavors were very much like traditional crème brulee.

That was it for eating in Spain since we left before we had another chance for a meal. But there was another trip coming up that I was looking forward to even more: Milan.

Cheers,
Frog

Momentous Event

Wife had a big week this week. Her foot injury had suspended driving lessons for a couple of weeks while it healed, but we were able to resume practice sessions on Tuesday night. That night we only did a very little bit of practice around our apartment, but the next night we made for the country and some more wide open space. After about 10 minutes of driving it was obvious she needed a bigger challenge to test her newfound shifting skills.

I told her to turn right and drive home. It was the first time she had driven into Southampton. While I think she was a little nervous, it also did her a lot of good. Having to drive in a situation with a little more traffic and some city driving conditions focused her efforts. Her drive in wasn’t flawless, but it was still very good. She didn’t stall the car once and made smooth shifts throughout the drive. She was understandably happy, and I was extremely happy for her. It’s a great relief to me that she can drive now so I don’t have to do all the driving, or if she really needs to get somewhere she can.

There is one thing that worries me about her driving. Her car back home isn’t a slouch, but the GTi is a little more power and acceleration than she’s used to. Now that she’s driving more normally the lead foot has a tendency to make an appearance. That wasn’t a big issue back home, but the Golf really likes to accelerate so she’s going faster than she thinks before she knows it. We’re definitely going to have to make sure she has a GPS with speed camera data in it.

We’re heading home for a week on Tuesday. Our close friends are getting married next Saturday. I’ll be having some meetings at work and we’ll also get to see our families before. I think we’re both looking forward to the trip. I know I am. Chipotle is calling my name. So is Jack Stack.

What I think I’m looking forward to most is getting away from the little things that are just slightly annoying because I haven’t adjusted to them yet. Overall living here has been a lot of fun, but the small things are starting to pile up and making me more negative than I like to be. I’ve heard this is fairly common and will pass with some more time.

Our sea shipment still hasn’t arrived. It’s supposedly in country and has cleared customs, but has not been brought to the depot for the destination agent to pick up. It seems weird that it would take a week for the shipment to be picked up, but I guess this is fairly common. The other American in the office said that was the same thing that happened to her.

One thing that I can’t understand is the European belief that drinking hot drinks to induce sweating is better than drinking cool drinks when the weather is hot. I may be different than the average European, but I don’t have any problem sweating. I’ve been traveling a fair amount lately for meetings and the one constant has been that I’ve been hot. It’s going to be terribly hot when we go home, but at least everywhere you go is refreshingly air conditioned and has air moving.

I’m long overdue for some food posts from my travels. My hope is to get to them later this weekend. For anyone who reads my blog and doesn’t care about the food bits don’t worry. I’ll give a clear warning about food only posts.

Cheers,
Frog

Fashion First

Old castle, lots to see...would be more pics but I had a fra (flip-flop related accident). Twisted my foot and kind of put an end to the exploring.

Views from the castle. The town and the river.

Firenze!

Sunday was another early start since we were headed to Florence, one of the great cultural cities of Italy. Our first adventure of the day was just driving into the city and finding parking. Luckily the guidebook told us where parking was and the GPS told us how to get there. I can’t imagine driving in an Italian city while trying to follow a conventional map or directions. Many a spousal argument must have started this way.

We were parked a good distance from the center of town, which led to a bit of a walk and us being temporarily lost. Once we found the river we got our bearings, but there for a second we had no clue where we were.

Walking along the north side of the river we saw the famed bridge with apartments and shops lining it. We avoided it like the plague since it was teeming with tourists of every nationality. Wife and I are of the opinion that there should be a tourist exam. Those who pass the exam would be given an identity card giving them special access to tourist destinations that have been restricted because some idiot couldn’t keep from touching the paintings or defacing the ancient masonry. Yes, we’re snobs, but if you’ve been run over by as many tour groups as Wife has and not been able to get to really cool things to see because some bozo screwed it up for everybody else as I’ve come across you might feel the same.

Rant over, continuing with Florence. Turning north we passed the Uffizi Museum. Wife was very excited to get into it, but we decided to wait since the line was extremely long. Instead we headed for the square to the north and then to the piazza where the cathedral is.

It’s hard to get a sense for how big the cathedral actually is because the city presses in on it from every side. Only when you go inside can you feel how huge it is. Ornate does not even begin to describe the carvings and decoration on the outside. Looking at the cathedral left no doubt in mind that Florence was truly a center of the Renaissance.

After attending Mass in the cathedral (it was in Italian but we got the gist), we made our way to the museum with the statue of David by Michelangelo. There wasn’t much else to see, but the almost hour wait was well worth it just for the one statue. The size of the carving is what strikes you first. I would guess it is close to 15 feet tall, and the carving is from one piece of marble.

As you get closer, the next thing that strikes you is how immaculately detailed the features are. Veins bulge through the skin, finger and toe joints show the customary wrinkles and muscles ripple beneath the surface. Wife also mentioned certain endowments Michelangelo gave David, but we won’t go into that here.

Finally the realization dawns on you that this statue was carved from a single block of marble and still contains an amazing amount of detail. I was overwhelmed.

Considering what a strong chord David struck with me it’s no surprise the Uffizi didn’t impress me nearly as much. Waiting in line two hours didn’t help (did I mention that the lines at attractions in Florence are only rivaled by Disney World?), but we were definitely going since Wife hadn’t been able to go when she had been to Florence previously. She’s much more into art than I am so we weren’t missing it. There were some very nice pieces, but I had a hard time getting into it. Wife thoroughly enjoyed it. I think when we go back to Tuscany for my wedding present (a week at a cooking school), I’m sending her to Florence for at least a day just to go to the Uffizi.

Since we were nearly exhausted at this point we headed back to the car. The piazza on the south side of the river that supposedly offers stunning views of the center of Florence would have to wait for another time.

Warning: food details for the rest of the post. We hadn’t had much to eat the whole day so we decided to go to a restaurant that we had seen earlier. The risotto choices jumped out at us since we hadn’t had any risotto yet on the trip. It didn’t disappoint.

For antipasto we shared a plate of mixed bruschetta. I didn’t realize before this trip how much of a bruschetta fiend Wife is. I made sure to get my share quickly or it was gone. For primi I had risotto with Gorgonzola while Wife had the wild mushroom version. Hers was lighter and earthy, just what makes mushroom risottos great. Mine was rich and creamy and absolutely delicious. Despite being famished when we got there the risottos were filling enough that neither of us wanted anything more. I was disappointed because Bistecca alla Fiorentina would have to wait for another day.

Frog

Wine, wine and more wine (in other words, heaven)

It’s been too long since I posted about the honeymoon and I’m afraid I’m going to start forgetting things if I don’t get back to it. The last post ended with us returning to Siena from Volterra. Our next day was set aside for exploring probably the most famous wine region of Italy, Chianti.

We got an early start, which was really unavoidable because of all the church bells that seem to ring all the time in Siena. It’s like dogs barking: one starts and then they all go. Having three from a small church right outside of our window didn’t help matters.

We set out north from Siena on a winding road which is basically named the Chianti Highway (I can’t remember the actual translation). I had gotten the hang of driving in Italy a little better so during this drive I was able to take in the scenery a little bit better. It was absolutely stunning. Filming a movie in Tuscany has to be about as easy as it gets for selecting locations. There are so many places where every direction you look there is something picture worthy. Not to mention that the catering table has got to be out of this world.

Our first stop of the day was in Castellina in Chianti. Driving in we went by the huge vats that hold more Chianti than you can imagine. The vats were about as large as a small grain elevator silo back home, but made from stainless steal and full of wine. It was an awe inspiring site to see around 16 of them all lined up.

After finding a place to park we walked in toward the town. There was a street market since it was Saturday. We wandered among the vendors looking at the different produce available. Unfortunately none of it looked particularly fresh due to it being too early in the year. After checking out the stalls and walking inside the outer wall of the town (it was previously a hill fortress as most towns in Chianti seem to be) we felt a bit hungry and decided that today was to be snack day. A snack cart had caught our interest earlier, so we made for it via the main street. After a stop in a wine store that boasted some bottles of Chianti that were approaching 100 years of aging we had some fried polenta (fried mush if you’re from my family, except there wasn’t any maple syrup to be had).

With our munchies satisfied we headed back to the car to continue north. Our guide book told of a store in Greve in Chianti that had over 100 wines available for tasting. This of course piqued our interest but it sounded too good to be true. Obviously it needed to be investigated.

Shortly after parking in Greve our most ambitious hopes were realized. The store was one of the first things we saw. Being the sensible pair that we are, though, we decided that we should have something more to eat before we tackle wine tasting lest we come away sloshed. A square in the center of town had a market open with more food vendors so we got a sandwich and some wonderful fried vegetables, mushrooms, and polenta. Fully prepared by the alcohol absorbing grease and carbohydrates we headed for the wine shop.

When you enter the shop there is a display of old tools used in the processing of the wine over 100 years ago. For the most part the wine production before that hadn’t changed very much at all so similar tools had been in use for centuries. After lingering for almost a full minute (come on, there was wine to be had) we made for the wine.

The system for tasting was to buy a card with a certain preprogrammed amount of Euros that was used to dispense the samples. There were several stands spread around the store, each with about a dozen different bottles of wine to taste. Each sample was a certain price depending on the original price of the wine. We got about eight or nine samples each on our 25 Euros, which we thought was a pretty good deal. It was especially good because Wife found an incredible wine. It was a blend, and cost more than any wine I’d purchased before, but we think it was worth it.

Overall we thought that kind of place was an absolute gold mine. First, you let people have a lot of different, good wines for which they still pay. After five or six tastes they’ll probably buy at least one bottle. Overhead can’t be that much since the samples don’t come free. Wait; forget I said anything about that. It’s a horrible idea.

After spending all our money (or at least all we were willing to spend) on wine, we decided we had better cut our losses and head back to Siena. We spent the evening at the main piazza having pizza for dinner while watching people pass by. A very nice end to our wine adventure.

Cheers,
Frog

Speaking properly (or some nonsense like that)

Once people get to know you here the first thing they give you a hard time about is how you can’t speak properly. Don’t try to tell them how there isn’t a second ‘i’ in aluminum or that color doesn’t require a ‘u’. It won’t matter. The British will never believe that you’re speaking properly unless you pronounce every vowel in Hereford, or when you flatten every ‘a’.

Not that I mind the English accent. On the contrary I find it very interesting. When you’re here you can pick up more on the regional accents too. Picking out Welsh or Scottish from British is easy. The regional English accents are a little more difficult to distinguish. I haven’t quite figured out where they each come from, but I’m starting to hear them.

The scariest thing is that I’m picking up the manner of speech already. I haven’t been around long enough to get the accent, but it’s probably going to happen. Just the other day the American chick (don't yell at me, that's what she wanted to be called) in our office ended her phone conversation with a British accent. She’s only been here a year. Luckily, my spouse is American whereas hers is British. She gets the accent all the time where I hear the American accent every night.

I won’t even go into cursing, but I will say that there’s no English speaking accent that I’ve heard that can curse with more invective than the British. To my ear the accent gives cursing a measure of proper speech even while being as foul as an NFL coach’s halftime tirade after when his team is down three touchdowns.

But the absolute most entertaining thing about the British accent is hearing them try to speak with a Texas or Western accent. Flat a’s really make saying y’all difficult. It ends up sounding more like fowl than fall. Comedy of the highest form and they don’t understand why I find it funny. Maybe I’ll teach them how to conjugate y’all (yes, it can be done, ask any Texan).

As I end this post I’ll leave you with my favorite British saying: cheers.

Frog

It's Not England, It's Endor

Been a while since I posted. Went hiking a couple of weekends ago in the New Forest. Very pretty. I kept expecting to see an Ewok jump out.














Realized there wasn't a picture of Aaron and me, yet. Didn't take any of us on this hike, but here is one from another.

The Unwatchable Sport

I guess it’s been way too long since I wrote a post since I’ve got friends e-mailing me asking when the next update is coming. Well here it is, in all its lack of glory.

The big thing over the past couple of weeks has been the World Cup. Even though it has been over for a week, the talk is still about the head butt. There have even been articles about it on Page 2 on espn.com. It wasn’t quite Artest going into the stands, but it definitely made the game exciting.

That leads me to the title of my post. We went over to a friend of a friend’s place to watch the England quarterfinal match against Portugal. There hadn’t been an opportunity to watch a full match on a real TV (Internet viewing leaves a lot to be desired), so we were looking forward to it. Plus, there were going to be grilled hamburgers, so Wife was definitely excited.

Viewing conditions weren’t optimal since we wanted to enjoy the nice weather by sitting in the garden. This required the TV to be wheeled to the back door which caused the sun to wash out the picture a little, but it was still better than a 320x240 pixel internet feed.

I think it was about halfway through the first half when Wife and I realized that the first half wasn’t close to over and we were already bored. In the game’s defense our friends who actually know soccer said it was an awful game, but we were just completely bored. And this went on for 120 minutes plus some arbitrary number of extra time minutes that the referee decided they needed to play. Even after all that nobody had scored. The only thing interesting that had happened was a Portuguese player had gotten stepped on (in the groin) leading to the best English player shoving another Portuguese player and getting ejected.

In the end England lost because their players couldn’t kick a ball into the ocean from a boat when it comes to penalties.

Now I will be the first to admit that the subtlety of the game is completely lost on me, so I won’t claim to understand the game completely. But to me it seems like the game of close but not quite. So many times the players would break away from their defender only to make a pass that was just a little ahead of the player breaking to the goal.

I guess I could find myself watching soccer more often, but I think it will be similar to how the Sports Guy watches it: be doing something else and then look up when the announcers’ voices become agitated or excited. That way I can catch all the good bits and skip all the “action” around midfield.

Wife would like me to point out that she still likes it even if she couldn’t make it all the way through final without flipping through the channels occasionally. The drama of grown men (aka: the Italians) acting like they’ve been hit by a sledgehammer when anyone from the opposing side looks at them funny appeals to her soap opera appreciation side.

That should about cover soccer (football). I’d write about cricket but I don’t have a clue what the heck is going on in that sport. It’s incomprehensible.

Cheers,
Frog